


Found & Lost!

by tfw_ftw



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Curtain Fic, M/M, Multi, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-17
Updated: 2014-01-17
Packaged: 2018-01-09 00:36:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1139365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tfw_ftw/pseuds/tfw_ftw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The wedding photo. The cabin. The irritatingly perfect family postcards that Castiel insisted they order. Sam's been waiting for this longer than he cares to admit and fuck it, he deserves this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Found & Lost!

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written for the [Reverse Big Bang](http://spn-reversebang.livejournal.com/) challenge, where I claimed the always awesome [snappapple](http://archiveofourown.org/users/snappapple)'s picturesque art. Go look at it [here](http://buttsexandwaffles.tumblr.com/post/68110147903).  
> I want to thank (again for the hundredth time) my beta [Renee](http://alaniesanar.livejournal.com/), who found the flaws in my story that I completely overlooked and worked with me even on crappy Monday mornings. All thanks go to her.
> 
> Title inspired by Lost! by Coldplay, a very Sam song if you ask me.

The buzz-buzz of his cell phone wakes Sam from his sleep. He slaps his hand down on the nightstand until the cool glass surface vibrates against his palm. A brief fumbling with the volume turns off the sound and he answers the call, _Dean_ catching his eye as he brings up the phone to listen. 

“What?”

“Rise and shine, Sammy!” Dean’s all too loud voice blares in his ear. Guess who’s already had their coffee. “When I get back, be dressed. I want to check out the house and get into town early.”

Sam grumbles his acknowledgment and throws in a half-moaned, “Food.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean answers. “Cas and I’ll be there in 10. Get the fuck up.”

Dean gives him fifteen minutes to get ready. _“Just enough time to wash the important bits,”_ Dean liked to joke when they were growing up. Sam is stuffing a t-shirt in the zippered section of a duffel bag that contains his next laundry load when the hotel room door opens.

“There’s gotta be a Wal-mart or something around here,” Dean complains to Cas.

“That’s why we need to see if there are places to shop in town, they can help us find the resources we need,” Cas says, walking towards Sam. He puts the grease-smudged brown paper bag that contains a breakfast sandwich down next to Sam's bag and leans over. “Good morning, Sam,” Cas says softly, placing a kiss on his cheek. 

Sam nearly jumps out of his skin. 

Cas makes his way back toward Dean, sitting down at the small table next to the door. 

Dean goes about gathering their bags like nothing happened. “Sam, you ready?”

Sam remains standing frozen beside his bag. “Uh,” he practically whispers, it’s so quiet. 

Dean continues, “I’ll check us out. Meet you in the car.” He turns to Cas. “You coming?”

“Sure.”

Sam watches slack-jawed as they leave the room. He’s still reeling from the kiss. Cas _kissed_ him. _Cas_ kissed _him_. Like it was _nothing_. Like it was commonplace. In front of Dean, who didn’t say a damn word.

He scours the room, finding the demon warding etched above the door and the remnants of salt lines. Pulling down the collar of his shirt, Sam sees his own anti-possession tattoo intact. 

“So _I’m_ not possessed,” he says aloud. “But maybe _they_ are.”

He shakes his head of that thought, though Sam does think a well-placed “Christo” will make him feel more secure. 

Dean leaning on the Impala’s horn outside kicks Sam back into action. Once he’s set up in the front seat, everything goes back to normal: Dean humming along to a tape playing quietly on the radio and Cas staring out the window with that small smile of which Sam secretly keeps a tally. They’re on the road to the next hunt. Normal. “ _Maybe_ ,” he wonders, “ _I imagined it._ ”

Sam looks over to Dean and whispers, “Christo.”

“Wha-?” Dean responds, glancing at him. No black eyes.

With a relieved smile, he says, “Nothing.”

“Did you think we were possessed?” Cas asks from the back seat. Sam curses the former angel’s keen awareness and lack of ability to tell when someone’s trying to end a conversation. 

Sam scrambles for something to say. “I’ve just been having a weird morning. Is all.”

Dean perks up, the ever-alert guard dog over his brother. “Possession weird?” 

Sam curses Cas in his head for getting Dean started. “It was nothing. Had deja vu, I guess.” Sam hopes the lie will stop the inquiry. 

“Well, sleeping in _is_ common for you. Maybe that’s what triggered it,” Dean comments, his focus back on the road. 

“Shut up, jerk.” Seeing the smirk on Dean’s face, Sam knows he’s off the hook. He peers over his shoulder and Cas has returned to enjoying the scenery. 

At the presence of Dean’s hand on his thigh, placed gently with a light squeeze of reassurance, Sam freaks out internally until the warmth becomes comforting. 

Dean hasn’t really touched him much the last few years, outside of first aid treatment and the occasional life-affirming hug after one of them comes back from the dead. They had a few passionate moments after Dean’s reappearance from Purgatory, then Benny came along, then the trials, and soon after that, sleeping in separate rooms of the bunker became the norm. 

Sam can honestly say he misses the way Dean used to look at him when Sam laced his fingers through Dean’s.

Forty minutes later, they’re well into the country roads of Ontario when Dean turns into one of the barely visible driveways. It’s like driving through a forest, Sam notes, but the house it opens up to is _perfect_. 

It's a two-story log cabin set on what must be over 10 acres of land. The snow-lined trees and mountains in the distance provide picturesque views that Sam knows will be ten times better in the fall. A check of his phone’s GPS tells Sam they’re a few miles north of Lake Superior. 

“Home sweet home,” Dean announces, none too pleased, as he parks. 

“It is sweet, isn't it?" says Cas exiting the car, still oblivious to Dean's sarcasm after all these years. 

“Retirement’s gonna suck,” Dean jokes, looking to Sam for a laugh. When it doesn’t come, Dean rolls his eyes and gets out the car.

Sam doesn’t move. He’s shell-shocked. They’re retiring to a cabin in the mountains of Canada? He knows, for certain now, that something’s off. He hates that the first thing he thinks is he’s died. The next, and most logical, thing Sam thinks is that some creature’s got him. He hates that possibility even more. 

He runs his hand over his face, glancing up to see Dean laugh at something Cas has said. Dean wraps his around Cas’s shoulders and pulls Cas down to kiss the top of his head. 

Sam’s not sure how Cas got mixed in with his and Dean’s craziness. He’s still don’t know why Cas has even stuck by them all this time. Sam inhales deeply and makes up his mind, opening the door to climb from the car.

If he’s dead, this isn’t so bad of an afterlife. 

Sam catches the tail end of what Dean’s saying as he walks into the house, “... the previous owners left town in a hurry, so we lucked out with their hand-me-down furniture. I mean, I'd like to get something I know doesn't have lice or bed bugs, but it’ll do for now.”

Last to walk through, Sam closes the door with purpose and a smile. He’s overcome with the feeling that the last few years have finally been worth it. The trials, Purgatory, Cas falling. They all went through shit to finally end up with roses. 

“No monsters. No evil,” he says, more as a mantra for himself.

Dean rolls his eyes and groans, “Now you know that’s not true.”

Sam hadn’t noticed he spoke aloud. “Yeah, but still. No more monsters, no more evil. Not anymore, not for us at least.”

“I still don’t understand why we can’t do some work on the side. Hunts in the area only.”

Castiel pipes up from the couch he’s doing a bounce check on, “Dean. We’ve discussed this.” 

“Retirement is for old farts and cat ladies,” Dean complains. “I’m too sexy to retire.” 

“You and Sam have both died multiple times, lived decades in the depths of Hell, fought through two wars in Heaven and have been hunting since childhood. I believe it is time for a break.”

Sam makes his ‘I told you so’ face, repeating the sentiment in his head, and Dean sighs dramatically. “I guess I could take a vacation.” He looks around the empty home, nodding his head, “Now, who’s gonna christen this place with me?”

~

It’s early spring when Dean installs their “The Winchesters” mailbox at the end of their driveway, much to his own chagrin.

“Soooooo,” Dean’s voice echoes back from the empty loft space above him as he walks through the cabin. “Why are we married, again?”

Sam peeks his head from around the back door and uses his wrist to stop the sweat dripping into his eyes. “Because it’s easier than saying ‘this is my brother and that’s our former angel.’” 

He briefly looks down at his wedding ring, now caked in soil. It was a joke at first. Their new neighbor came to greet them soon after their arrival and when she inquired about the home’s residents, Dean quickly changed the subject. While retelling the story, Sam had flippantly said, “You should’ve told her we’re married.” Cas latched on to the idea and a week later they were husbands to anyone who asked. Sam knows he won’t admit it, but Dean loved ring shopping. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Dean reaches him and wipes a bit of dirt off Sam’s brow, Sam leaning in minutely to the touch. “Can’t really tell everyone we’re fucking like bunnies, huh?” Dean punctuates the question with a smack to Sam’s ass as he walks past.

Sam makes a face, one that Dean loves to call Sam’s bitch face, and goes back to tilling the ground.

“Bitch!” Dean calls over his shoulder on his way out to the shed to return his tools. 

“Jerk!” 

Dean comes out of the shed 15 minutes later, hair mussed and cheeks flushed, with two of Cas’s handmade chairs in tow. Cas walks out with the other two a minute later, looking just as disheveled. They caravan a handful of items into the house from the shed: the dining table, an armchair for the living room, and the foundation pieces to their bed. 

Sam yells into the house, “Don’t break in the bed without me.” 

He recalls when Cas first showed an interest in carpentry. When they first drove into town, Cas sat and spoke with an old tattooed man who was whittling on the front steps of the small general store. The man let Cas keep the small wooden dog he was making and that’s what started it all. 

First, came the two oblong almost salt and pepper shaker shaped things that sit on the kitchen counter. Then he started in on a cat to match the original dog from the old man. By the end of the fortnight, you could see the calico pattern on the feline’s tail. How Cas mastered in a few months, what took others a lifetime, Sam will never know, but watching Cas build has become a new pastime for him. 

“Come up here and help then,” Dean shouts. “We need your big ass to test the weight anyway.”

Sam smiles to himself. Of course they were going to fool around once it was assembled. Since moving in, they’d fallen into the honeymoon phase of the relationship. Where they use any excuse to touch and kiss each other, find every opportunity to fuck, and revel in the simple joy of each other’s company. He’d forgotten how that felt and loves that he doesn’t have to worry about forgetting again. 

He drags his hands across his thighs, dirt trails left in the wake of his fingertips. A stop to the bathroom cleans all the dirt from his hands and most from his face and under his nails.

“We need to secure all the joints, that’s where the structure and support will be held,” Sam hears Cas say as he walks up the spiral staircase leading to their bedroom. The whirl of the power drill turns Sam’s attention to Dean kneeling on the ground. 

“Look at the handyman,” Sam mocks.

“I’m a great handyman, ass.”

“Until you need to reach something high.”

Dean flips Sam the bird, then his focus moves back to assembling the bed.

“He’s not wrong, Dean. Sam does have a longer reach than you because of his height advantage,” Cas pipes in after just a long enough pause that Sam errupts in laughter. He walks up to Cas and plants a kiss on the back of his neck. 

“Thanks, Cas.” 

Dean puts the drill down, flipping them the bird with both hands. 

Sam pecks Cas again. “If you’d hurry, you could,” Sam says, adding one of Dean’s patented suggestive eyebrow raises.

Dean scrambles to pick the drill back up and Sam smiles to himself. “How can I help?” He asks. 

“There’s only one power drill,” Cas says. “But I already pre-drilled starter holes.”

“Then where’s the screwdriver?”

Half an hour later, the bed is assembled and made, occupying a majority of the square footage of the loft space. Sam laughs to himself about its size; a California King falling on the small side when holding three men, each over six feet tall. 

Sam turns around when Dean speaks, “I know the perfect way to test out our handy work.”

“What?” Sam starts, but Dean pushes hard on his shoulders, knocking him back onto the bed. A wide smile on his face, Sam growls, “You fucker.” 

“Why, yes, I am.” Dean practically pounces on Sam, bed squeaking as metal death-grips wood. “Now scoot up.” He kisses Sam quickly, thighs splayed wide to give Sam the room to move.

Cas has been sitting against the pillows watching them, a smirk now forming at the corner of his mouth. Sam’s noticed he’s doing that more often, the weight Cas has carried for millennia finally easing enough to allow him to smile. 

“Come here,” he whispers to Cas. Sam’s hand threads through the dark locks to pull Cas down to his face. Sam kisses Cas thoroughly. Open-mouthed, tongue licking, deep kisses that leave them both breathless and flushed. 

Cas starts helping Dean strip Sam of his shirt. Dean takes over, moving Sam’s arms this way and that, when Cas goes back into their earlier makeout session. Before Sam realizes it, Dean’s fastened his wrists to the headboard. He tugs with his right arm, and soft velvet material cushions the joint. Sam glares at Dean. 

“What? I’m making sure the bed is at maximum functionality.” 

Sam looks to Cas. “How did he convince you to add in this feature?”

“With this very scenario.” 

Dean and Castiel tease Sam endlessly, ghosting caresses over his naked form. Kisses placed everywhere, moans and twitches escaping as Dean’s mouths at his cock. He teeters on the edge for what feels like ages, the pool of pre-come growing on his belly over time. The handcuffs hold up remarkably well when Sam jackknives off the bed, finally getting to come. 

~

Sam’s birthday welcomes two rescued huskies to the family, one two and one five. They were an idea Sam pitched when they first moved in, which, of course, meant Dean gifted them to him. Cas’s contribution comes in the form of two handmade dog beds now in the corner of the living room, and, thanks to his recent animated-children’s-movie marathon on VHS tapes, the names Bones and Tulio. Cas doesn’t care that Tulio is a girl, he likes the name, so it stays. 

The evening ends with birthday cake and Sam a la mode. 

~

When June ends, their garden is in full bloom, providing fresh produce for their dinner table each night. It’s another project Cas takes the helm of. He and Sam’s hands are covered in dirt, and they marvel at their ability to create and tend to life. Cas plants almost every seed he can get: zucchini, tomato, rosemary, parsley, raspberry, even a plum tree, all in neatly maintained rows along the back side of the house. 

Dean’s time not-so-secretly watching the Food Network improves their meals from canned chili and tortilla chips to eggplant parmesan with made-from-scratch garlic bread. Flour smudges are constantly found across Dean’s forehead. He also insists on buying a monstrosity of a grill for the Fourth of July, face bright with glee as he fires off burgers and bratwursts.

“You sure got a whole lot of vegetables there, Dean,” Sam teases. 

“One,” Dean extends his arm across the patio table, index finger in Sam’s face. “They’re grilled, so none of that healthy-raw-vegan crap.” Sam snorts in response. “Two,” Dean continues as his middle finger joins in on the visual aid. “They’re mostly peppers and onions for the brat. Can’t have a good sausage sandwich without onions and peppers.”

“Right,” Sam says and eats another forkful of the pasta salad many of the veggies were grilled for. “The herb vinaigrette was for dipping then.”

Dean glares around a bite of his sandwich. 

“I’m still not sure about the ‘Devil’ egg, guys,” comes from a wary Cas from Sam’s left. 

Sam laughs and says, “It’s not a ‘devil’ egg, Cas. It’s called a _’deviled’_ egg because the seasoning makes it spicy. Nothing more.” 

Cas nudges the hard-boiled egg with the side of his fork again, still looking unconvinced. The egg remains untouched when Cas taps out, two fully-loaded burgers being heavier than he remembers. “How did I eat over one hundred of those?” He complains from his spot in the grass, hands resting on his stomach. 

~

“Margaret says there’s a lovely orchard we should visit,” Sam hears Cas say as he walks down the stairs. 

Dean looks up from his french toast. “You know I hate when you quote Margaret, Cas.”

Sam smirks, Dean hates the flowery words that Cas has picked up from his new friend in town.

“Didn’t you say you like the tartness of early harvest apples for your tartlets?” Sam teases.

Dean stuffs another mouthful of bread into his mouth. “Shut up.”

“It’s been a while since we’ve been to an orchard, right Dean?” Sam asks around a piece of toast. 

A hearty laugh bursts out of Dean. “Yeah, that crazy place with the homicidal scarecrow. Didn’t eat apple pie forever after that.”

“Forever is a week now?”

“Shut up.”

The day is full of cider, apple picking and the pumpkin patch they find on the other side of the farm. Dean buys enough apples to fill three dozen orders of his tartlets and Sam grabs some pumpkin seeds in order to attempt planting them in their garden. The group selfie Cas makes them take with the farm’s scarecrow makes its way around to each of their phones, one text alert after another.

~

Halloween finds Dean badly trying to hide the fact that he is on high alert. Sam can see the change in his body language, stalking around the house and neighborhood. What kind of brother would Sam be if he doesn’t take full advantage? “Oh shit, a cow was found dead.”

“What?” Dean’s head snaps around from watching tv.

“A cow was found out by the Wilkerson farm.” Sam takes a dramatic pause, rolling around in laughter in his head. “Looks like it was hit by a car.”

“Oh,” Dean grumbles, turning back to the original 1931 version of _Frankenstein_. 

They don’t get any trick-or-treaters that night. It ends up being a blessing in disguise when they run out of candy while Dean’s in the middle of _Nosferatu_. 

~

Dean wakes up early on Christmas Day to do the double bake for his cinnamon rolls. The smell of sugar and spice greets Sam as he wakes from his slumber. Cas snuggling into his side is a sure sign of the aroma waking him too. 

“Think we should wait for Dean to come back upstairs?” Cas whispers into Sam’s bicep, little kisses placed with each spoken word. 

“Nah,” Sam says, rolling them over to sit up on Cas, his legs bracketing Cas’s hips. They’re still naked from last night’s romp, so once the morning wood they’re sporting aligns, Sam starts a slow rut. The catch of dry skin rubbing against dry skin, makes Cas shudder beneath him. 

Sam drops his head to Cas’s shoulder, panting breaths blowing hot air down their bodies. Cas brings his hands up to roam Sam’s back. Their erections sliding a little easier with the moisture created from their sweat and lust. 

“Pull my hair,” Sam pants out. Cas complies, one hand threading through the waves, the other hand wrapping around their cocks, after a quick lick of his palm. Sam arches back, already close to the edge. 

“Come on, Sam. Almost there.” 

Who Cas is referring to, Sam’s not sure. He thrusts on an upstroke and the light squeeze Cas gives their heads sends Sam over. 

Cas smears Sam’s come on his cock to aid his furious strokes. Sam falls to Cas’s left, arms weak from holding himself up through his orgasm. Cas finishes a moment later, releasing a satisfied sigh into the air.

Sam rolls onto his back. “You think he heard us?” 

“I was going to bring up some rolls,” Dean bellows from beneath them. “But you fuckers can serve your damn selves.”

Dean gives them the cold shoulder once they come downstairs. Sam makes him crack when he starts doing inappropriate things to his cinnamon roll with his tongue. “Damn it, Sam! Hurry up and eat the damn thing.” Dean doesn’t complain about getting to lick the icing from the corner of Sam’s mouth, though. After another retreat to their bed, this time with Dean in the middle, the rest of the morning goes smoothly. 

There aren’t many gifts under the tree, two ‘for each, from each’ because they agreed on a maximum. It’s more than any of them have ever had and under a real tree too, so Sam has no complaints when their gift exchange is short lived. 

Dean, always trying to find ways to make fun of them, gives Sam and Cas gag gifts. There’s an inappropriate sexy angel costume for Cas, who accepts the gift in stride, and a Sapphire Barbie for Sam, since he’s “such a girl.”

~

Cas looks up from the tv showing the gathering crowd in Times Square. “I’m still not sure why this is such a large deal.” 

“It’s _’big’_ deal, Cas.” Dean shakes his head from beside Cas, patting his thigh. “Not ‘large’ deal.”

Sam walks around the couch with another round of beers. “It’s a big deal because it’s a new year.” He sits on Dean’s other side. “It’s like getting a new start or permission to change the things you don’t like from the year prior. A lot of people use the new year to make themselves and their lives better.”

“Yeah, by making resolutions that they break before the end of January.” Dean puts on his mocking voice and trills, “I’m going on a diet. Oooh! Leftover rum cake!” 

Sam elbows Dean in the ribs. Dean over-acts the pain as he clutches his side, and Sam smirks. “Thankfully, I think our life is great just the way it is. So I have no need for resolutions,” Sam says. 

Dean huffs out a laugh and says, “Yeah, we’re just the picture perfect image of marital bliss.” He points to the newest pictures atop the fireplace mantle, another suggestion from Margaret leading to dress-up day for family portraits and holiday cards. Cas still wants to have one blown up and framed like he’s seen in a few of their neighbors’ homes and Dean is still fighting him on it. 

“Well, it’s a dream compared to how we used to live,” Sam argues. 

Cas pipes in with, “He’s not wrong there.” 

“You always pick his side,” Dean complains. 

Sam side-eyes Dean. “And you always get him on your side with sex.” 

“It’s not my fault I’m convincing!” 

Sam’s mouth opens to respond, but Dean cuts him off, saying, “Anyway, that’s not the most pressing issue.” 

“What would that be?” Cas pipes up.

“Who’s kissing who at midnight? I think I should get first pick because I’m the oldest,” Dean announces.

Sam rolls his eyes. “You know that doesn’t hold weight when Cas is in the room.” 

Dean’s face scrunches up in mock anger. “Oh, yeah.” 

“What’s this about choosing kisses?” Cas asks, attempting to stop the banter he’s seen go on for hours.

Sam explains the midnight tradition, Dean suggesting they play rock, paper, scissors to see who goes first. 

Instead, Sam allows Cas to make the decision. “I think,” Cas contemplates for a moment. “I think we should all kiss our rings at midnight, honoring the vow we made to each other-”

Sam smiles and Dean boos, “You get just as chick-flick-y as Sam does.”

“-then we can kiss each other, however we please,” Cas finishes.

“There we go! A free for all. You think I can get both of you in my lap at the same time?” Dean  
wedges his arms around their waists, trying, and failing, to pull them in closer.

Sam leans in toward Dean’s shoulder, giving him some of the satisfaction. “Don’t think so, dude.” He sits back up and kisses Dean on the cheek. “Now, when are we eating? Cause whatever you’re cooking smells awesome.”

Dinner is ready soon after, roasted duck breast over rösti. “Not hash browns,” Dean corrects Sam continuously. Sam knows the proper name, but finds too much joy in pissing him off with the simple mistake.

Eleven rolls around with yawns from all three. Their usual bedtime, closer to the ten o’clock hour, is calling for them. As the countdown timer makes it closer and closer to the main event, they slump further into the couch and further across each other. 

A “rousing” performance by a scantily clad pop star minutes before the ball drop stirs Dean’s attention. “How about we start the new year off with a bang?” 

Sam groans, both at Dean’s one track mind and the soreness in his neck.

“You really expected me to miss that opportunity?” He laughs again at his own joke. “No, but really, we should bang. Like in the morning though, cause I’m exhausted.” 

Cas stretches as he speaks, “As am I.” 

“Look, we’re almost to midnight,” Sam says, then takes a swig of his now room-temperature beer to wet his dry mouth. “Countdown time.” 

… 10, 9, 8 ...

Sam hears a faint clanging from his left, like the trash cans being knocked over. 

… 7, 6 ...

Which sets off a dog barking in the distance. Sam looks at his feet and sees Bones and Tulio snuggled together under the coffee table. He didn’t know there were wolves this far from the mountains. 

… 5, 4, 3 ...

There’s suddenly a loud bang from behind him. He swings his head around, catching Dean’s confused expression along the way. He turns back around to finish the countdown.

… 2, 1! 

Sam and Dean shout in unison, “Happy New Year!” Cas’s eyes widen at their unexpected change in volume. 

Colorful flashes of light fill the black New York sky on the TV and Sam swears he can hear the loud bangs of the fireworks going off. 

“Sam!” 

He looks to his right, sees Cas and Dean kissing the metal adorning their knuckles. He looks down, eyes blurring suddenly. 

“Sammy!” 

A hand waves in Sam’s face. He looks at his hand and squints when his ring shines brightly in his eyes, blinding him for a second. When he moves his hand again to bring to his lips, he can’t move it. It's like lifting a ton of bricks. 

“Sam, come on now.” He doesn’t know why Dean’s voice sounds hollow and far away. “Need you to wake up for me.” 

Sam shakes his head a bit, drowsiness washing over him in waves as his head lobs back and forth. 

“Please, Sam.” The panic in Dean’s voice focuses him.

“Dean,” he croaks out.

“Sammy, thank fuck!” Dean has an arm under his, carrying him from the living room.

He must have fallen asleep on the couch. “We going to bed, finally?” Sam slurs.

“Yeah, we’ll go to bed when we get back.” Dean ushers him to sit in a chair that squeaks in protest at Sam’s weight. “Cas do you see water anywhere? Fuck it, let’s get him back to the car.” 

A second arm wraps around Sam from the other side. He’s half carried, half dragged away. The cold gust of air hitting his face has Sam’s confused. Opening his eyes, Sam tries to take in as much as the moon-lit area as he can. 

He’s not sure why they’re outside or why he’s being led to the Impala. The pain in his head makes him close his eyes again. Sam just goes with it as hands push and pull him into the backseat.

A bottle is pressed to his lips. “Drink, Sam,” Cas’s gentle voice prompts him, now coming from the firm surface behind him. Cas brushes hair from Sam’s face as he tilts the water bottle up. Sam chugs down half the liquid, thirst suddenly being a fierce need, then leans back into Cas’s warmth. 

He closes his eyes and when they open again he’s in a bed. It’s not the handcrafted bed Castiel built them months ago, it’s a lumpy queen with sheets that feel like paper. 

Sam clears his throat, mouth dry again from lack of use. 

Up and alert at the sound, Dean jumps from his chair to Sam’s side. “Sammy, you alright?” 

He makes a drinking motion with his hand and Dean reaches for one glass off the side table. Sam’s movements are sluggish as he sits up. The soreness in his shoulder blades and light-headedness make him feel weak. 

“Here.” Dean outstretches his hand. “You got it?”

Sam grabs the cup with two hands, nodding his head, and drinks it down. Cool water clearing more of the haze in his mind. “What happened?”

“A djinn.”

Realization falls over Sam. Every memory. Every high point. Everything they shared. It was all in his fucked up head. He wanted it to be real, but knew it wasn’t, they were _together_ and happy.

He rests his head in his hands and takes a deep breath to stop his emotions from spilling over. Anger. Frustration. Overwhelming longing. He ignored his instincts and now he gets what he deserves, nothing. And definitely not them. 

“We got ‘im, though. Cas knocked him down with a clean shot to the shoulder.” Dean looks toward Cas with pride. “I came in with the knife dipped in lamb’s blood right after. Only took a day and a half to find the farmhouse where you were. Place was foreclosed back in February. Djinn must have been hiding there since. He took out the former owners when he first came into town. Figured that out when we couldn’t find where they went off to after the sale.” 

“A farmhouse.” Sam sees their cabin from his djinn dream in his mind’s eye. 

“Yeah, thing was right in the center of the property. Town’s land records didn’t show the exact location, so we had to walk all 10 acres. Should’ve criss-crossed the land instead of walking the perimeter.”

Cas gives Dean an indignant look. Sam guesses, with a stiff snort, that Cas had that very idea and was overruled by Dean. He wants to reach over and kiss them. He knows he can’t. “Can I get some rest, actually? My head hurts.”

“Yeah, sure thing.” Dean scrambles to get himself up. Cas walks out the room first. When Dean reaches the doorframe, he turns back to Sam. His voice is low and his face is sad, “I know how you’re feeling right now. I remember how much I wanted to stay. I’m sorry, but I’m glad you’re here and safe.” 

“Dean, wait.” Sam thinks for a moment then motions Dean to sit on the bed beside him. Before he changes his mind, Sam grabs Dean by the neck and pulls him in for a kiss. It’s one-sided for a split-second then Dean kisses back.

Sam pulls back, a sheepish smile on his face, “Maybe it’s time for the three of us to take a vacation?”


End file.
